Spot

Well on Wednesday, I got my car back from the repair place, my wallet somewhat (figuratively) lighter for the experience. Drove it home, and… found someone in my car park spot. A beat up old red Ford Laser. Harumph. I didn’t recognise it, so I wasn’t sure whose it could be. Maybe flat 4.

So I left a note on the windscreen, asking politely if they could move it. By Thursday night, the car and the note were still there. I went to flat 4 and knocked on the door. They were very nice, but it wasn’t theirs. The lady there thought it through… not flat 6, that guy drives a different car. Flat 3 don’t have a car. Flat 1 are currently car-less too, after their heap of junk got a canary* and was subsequently taken away. Flat 5? I went and knocked. And knocked. Noise inside, but they wouldn’t come out. So I left a note.

On Friday night I got home to find a reply note from Flat 5, saying it wasn’t their car either. Double-harumph. Who parks their car there, in my spot, then doesn’t drive it for days and days? Grrr.

*An unroadworthy certificate… and it was certainly worthy of it.

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